“Ah! ah!” he exclaimed, “you refused me your daughter in honourable marriage three years ago. I have waited ever since then to be revenged on you, and now I have the opportunity.”
The band was at this time collected in a hollow, with rocks and trees around, effectually concealing its members from the world beyond. The only approach was by the pathway up which Marco had been led.
“Now, friend ’Renzo, the moment has arrived to decide whether you will become one of us!” exclaimed Greco, in a harsh tone. “I want yonder old man put out of the world—to you I award the task.”
’Renzo’s heart sank within him. He resolved, however, to make every effort to save the life of his old friend. He pleaded and argued. He might as well have talked to the surrounding rocks.
“Give him a rifle,” at length exclaimed Greco, losing patience. “See that you use it as I direct.”
’Renzo took the weapon, and ascertained that it was loaded properly. The old man had been allowed to sit on his mule. ’Renzo approached him.
“Friend, forgive me for the deed I am compelled to commit,” he said aloud; then he hurriedly whispered, “I will draw off the attention of the villains, and, as I do so, dash down the mountain. Your beast is trusty, and will not fall.”
Once more he retired nearer to Greco, and again pleaded earnestly for the old man’s life.
“Fire!” cried Greco, stamping on the ground.
“Ay, I will!” exclaimed ’Renzo, swinging himself round so as to cover the would-be chief of the band.